Onyx
by Robin100
Summary: Set six months after the Reichenbach fall. Veronica Taylor (also a high-functioning sociopath) is attacked by Moriarty's men so she seeks out John Watson for help. John meanwhile is still trying to cope with Sherlock's 'death'. Sherlock secretly returns. (I can't write summaries to save my life.)
1. Chapter 1

Bang...Bang...Bang...Bang...Bang...Bang...

_Falling. Blood. Pavement. Screaming. Black hair soaked in blood. People holding you back. Blood on the Pavement. _

Ring...Ring...Ring...Ring...RIIIIIING...

Goodbye, John.

_No, SHERLOCK._

There's blood on the pavement.

The sheets strangled John as he fought his way out of his sleepy haze. Breathing heavily John's mind cleared as he looked around the room. _Not St. Barts. _

After a moment the doorbell stopped ringing, but it didn't matter he was already wide awake. John groaned and reluctantly sat up on his uncomfortable bed. It was well past noon but he didn't care, he hadn't kept a regular sleep pattern for the past six months. Since... no, he wouldn't let himself think about it.

John got out of the bed and limped to the undersized kitchen. He had moved out of 221b and was now renting a smaller, cheaper, and crappier flat. He opened the ancient refrigerator looking for anything to eat and remembered he had to buy more food. Damn it.

He quickly got dressed and started for the door. Waiting there like a sad reminder was his cane. The cane he had used after he returned to London from Afghanistan. His limp had returned after...

John pushed the thought from his mind, grabbed the cane, and turned the doorknob. He had barely made it three steps past his door when he heard someone behind him.

"John? John Watson!" John didn't turn, the last person who said those words was Mike Stamford and then he met... No. John kept walking. But the voice that John heard wasn't of Stamford or Lestrade or Mycroft or Ms. Hudson, all of whom were still trying to reach out to him.

The voice was young, very young, and it was female and had an American accent. It wasn't of anyone he knew.

"John Watson, stop!" the young woman said. And this time John turned to look at the person who was addressing him.

She stood ten feet behind him. To say she was a woman would not have been right, she looked maybe a few years younger than twenty. She had very pale skin, like an anemic vampire who had never seen sunlight in her entire life. Her hair was quite the opposite though; it was a dark brown, just a shade lighter than black that fell down her back. She wore a black shirt and black jeans along with a leather jacket and boots that laced up to her knee. At her side was a leather messenger bag.

"I'm sorry, who are you," John asked her.

She raised her eyebrows. "A client, possibly."

John paused, staring at this strange girl thinking he thought about what to say next.

After a moment he found the words.

"Sherlock Holmes is dead," he closed his eyes and swallowed then opened his eyes again. "He's been dead for six months. I'm sorry, but I can't help you." He turned and started forward once again.

"Wait, Please," the young girl said. She sounded desperate. "Your limp is psychosomatic!"

John paused. _There is no way she can know that_, John thought. Nobody did but...

The girl continued. "You served as an army doctor. You have a sister who you don't talk to even though she regularly calls you. You have PTSD from some event that happened about six months ago, probably the suicide of your best friend, a suicide you witnessed. You feel responsible in some way, don't you?"

John faced her again.

"How the hell could you have possibly known that?" he asked still debating whether to listen or leave.

"The same way Sherlock Holmes did, I suppose. Observing and deducing. Even the smallest detail paint a picture of someone's life."

"If you think the same way as Sherlock then you don't need my help." John turned on his heel and started walking again.

Right before he turned the corner she spoke again.

"A man was in my flat last night. He attacked me. I killed him," she half yelled through the empty street. For the fourth time he turned and looked at her.

"John Watson, I _really_ think you should talk to me."


	2. Chapter 2 - Help Me

**Author's Note: As I've said before this is my first fanfiction story so don't be too critical in your reviews! I plan on making this a long story.**

"Okay, you get two minutes to tell me exactly who you are and to tell me the whole story,"John said.

"Fair enough," the strange girl said.  
The young girl sat across from him with the restaurant's table between them. John, who was still feeling hungry ordered while the stranger across from him waved away a menu and sat silently.

"My name is Veronica Taylor. I was born and raised in New York City, and I'm eighteen years old," she paused. "Six months ago my parents were murdered walking home from a movie."

John looked up taking more of an interest this time. Was this why she wanted to talk to him? Did she want him to find her parent's murderer?

"I inherited their company and their fortune. Since that night I've been getting notes, letters, and phone calls at one in the morning. I'm being followed Mr. Watson. People will walk behind me into stores and libraries, if I go into my flat they will stand outside the door for hours. I tried not to notice but about a month ago pictures show up taped to my door. They were pictures of me getting into a cab, walking into a building, or even pictures shot through my window. Then three weeks ago men started breaking into my flat when I wasn't home. They never took anything but they were definitely looking for something," She took a breath and continued. "Two nights ago a man broke in and attacked me, I fought back and somehow I was able to knock him to the ground, I then ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and when he came after me again I stabbed him."

She paused. "The police said that I had every right to protect myself but they've stopped investigating. They wouldn't help anymore. The notes are still being delivered. I am afraid for my life and I don't know how to stop this. I need your help."

"So you came looking for me?"

"Yes."

"Why? Why me?"

She leaned forward. "Because you are the closest thing to Sherlock Holmes there is."

John leaned back in his seat. "What did you say your name was?"

"Veronica Taylor."

"And you said you inherited your parent's fortune?"

"Yes," Veronica nodded.

"What did they do?"

She hesitated. "They, um, owned a computer company."

John thought a moment. "Wait, okay, hold on, are you saying that your parents owned Taylor Computers."

Veronica nodded silently.

Taylor Computers was one of the top computer companies in the world. Their computers were considered unhackable and the strongest in the world. Most companies and government offices used them. John himself had considered getting one. He remembered reading about Veronica's parent's murder in the newspaper.

"Look," she said, "Mr. Watson-."

"John. Just called me John."

She nodded. "John, I don't care about money, I've grown up with more money than I could possibly ever need. What I do care about is protection. So if you decide to take the case I can pay you any amount of money you see fit.

She took out a piece of paper and pen out of her pocket and wrote something down on it. Then she slid it to him. John noticed an onyx ring on her finger for the first time. "Here's my phone number, called me if you'll take the case. And if you don't..."

She got up from her seat and turned to leave.

"Wait, everyone thinks Sherlock was a fake and he even told me before-," he stopped and swallowed, "So why would you come to me even if I'm the closest thing to him."

Veronica took a moment and nodded. "I believe in Sherlock Holmes."

And then she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3- More Danger

About half an hour after Veronica left the restaurant John decided it was time to go home. Home meaning the cramped flat he now occupied.

With John's cane leading the way down the street he thought about the conversation that just occurred. _There is absolutely no reason_ _for me to help her, _He thought. _I shouldn't get caught up in this nonsense anymore. Sherlock is dead and buried, maybe I should move on just like everyone else did. _

John had often had these thoughts but never could act on them, they were just comforting lies he told himself. He couldn't move on, that was the problem. No matter from much he tried he was always reminded of the day Sherlock jumped in dreams, moments, memories. John had PTSD just as Veronica said. His limped returned and his sleep filled with flashbacks.

_But can I really let that young girl get threatened and attacked now that she came to _me _for help. And what happens if she gets killed. Can I live with anymore guilt on my shoulders. _

John was so deep in thought that he didn't even notice the black car that parked next to him until a man came out of the passenger seat, cleared his throat, and opened the door. The familiar car belonged to a man whom John had been trying to avoid for several months now. A string of curse word filled his mind because he knew there was no way to walk away or ignore him this time.

"Mr. Watson, if you would please come with us," said the man holding the door.

"Seriously, your power complex _really_ annoys me," John said walking to the center of the abandoned building, the same building where he first met Sherlock's brother. "What do you want, Mycroft?"

The older brother of his best friend looked at his umbrella as he twirled it in his hand.

"To talk," Mycroft said.

"About what?"

Mycroft took a breath. "It is my understanding that a little over an hour ago a young girl named Veronica Taylor came to asking for assistance with a case, her case in fact."

John hadn't seen Mycroft since the night before Sherlock jumped. Mycroft didn't even go to the funeral.

"Mycroft, enough with the mind games just tell me what you want,"John said.

Mycroft brought the tip of his umbrella back up to eye level and studied it. "How much do you know about computers?"

"Barely anything," John answered.

"So you understand what Veronica Taylor's parents did for a living?"

John was starting to feel like the conversation was going nowhere. "They created computers for government offices and businesses in America."

Mycroft smiled and lowered his umbrella. "Yes, computers that are considered nearly unhackable.

"Nearly?"

"There is only one code that can break into a Taylor computer and only two people in the world know it exists. When they discovered it they hid it. No one knows what the code is or what happened to it."

"Who were the two people?" John asked now curious.

"Mason and Olivia Taylor. Veronica's Parents."

John took a moment to comprehend what Mycroft was telling him. "Is that why they were murdered? Does Veronica know the code? Does she know that's why she's being hunted? Have you talked to her?"

"To your first question, possibly. To your second and third, I have no idea. And to your fourth one, no. I haven't talked to Veronica since that man tried to kill her, she has gone into hiding. She doesn't want to be found so we can't find her. She is very resilient for her age and situation."

John thought a moment. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

Mycroft half smiled. "I want you to take her case."

"Why?"

"A favor."

"For who?"

"You don't need to know."

John stared at the annoying man who stood across from him for a moment. "Why should I?"

"Because I know you will. You can't leave her alone to protect herself."

"The last time I tried to protect someone he decided to jump from the roof of St. Bart's." John said. He felt a pain as he remembered the scene at the hospital that occurred six months before.

"And _that_ is the exact reason you can't walk away from Veronica Taylor. She is in more danger than you know. If you don't help her, the next attack on her life _will _kill her. " Mycroft said slowly. "Well," Mycroft looked at his watch. "I must go. Call Veronica. Oh, and I would like a conversation with her soon."

He turned and walked to the car that had that had brought John to the mysterious building.

"_Is that it? That's all? That's all you're going to tell me?" _John nearly screamed.

Before Mycroft opened the door to the car he called back. "Call Veronica." He closed the door and it disappeared around the corner.

John didn't need the meeting to decide though. He had made his decision.

Taking the piece of paper with the number and his phone out of his pocket he punched in the numbers and brought the phone up to his ear.

**Sorry it has taken me so long to update. Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4- Invisible Man

Three seconds after Mcroft closed the door the car started rolling towards the exit. He stared out the window until the car drove into the street. He then turned to the passenger who sat across from him.

"How many chance have you had to tell him?" Mycroft inquired. The passenger turned from his window to his older brother. Sherlock Holmes' appearance had not changed in the last six months. His face remained pale, his hair black, the only thing that had changed were his clothes. He no longer wore the overcoat or scarf, his looked turned pedestrian with jeans, a white button down shirt, and a leather jacket.

His goal was to become invisible and to stay that way.

"He can't know, not yet," the younger Holmes said.

They remained in silence for a moment. Sherlock turned his attention back to the window. The buildings, cars, and people whizzed past with their ordinary lives. So boring and small compared to the one Sherlock was living now. He pulled out his new phone and started to text.

"But right now I do need to see a client."

* * *

Veronica clicked the end button on her phone and stared at for a moment. John had just told her he would take the case. For the first time in two days she relaxed slightly. Exhaling she slid the phone into her pocket. She continued walking down the sidewalk toward her hotel where she had been staying. She still couldn't bring herself to go back to her flat. But that was the place where she was going to meet John tomorrow to start the investigation.

In her pocket the phone buzzed. She stopped, took it out, and looked at the screen.

New text message from: Number Blocked

Even with the number blocked she knew who it was from. A month ago a mysterious man had approached her offering to help her. She had never seen the man before but he knew about the threats and attacks. Cautiously she let him help. He gave her leads along with names and places that he believed would help. He was the same man who had pointed her in the direction of John Watson.

The message was an address. This was how he communicated when they weren't face to face. Only a simple address.

Wasting no time Veronica turned to the street and hailed a cab. A moment later one pulled over, she got in and told the cabbie where she needed to go.

* * *

**This is my shortest chapter so far but I've been busy. Hopefully I'll be able to update soon.**


	5. Chapter 5- Mystery Man

_**Okay you guys, this is the fifth chapter!**_

* * *

The address took her to a art gallery about a mile from her hotel. Veronica paid the cabbie and walked quickly to the entrance. The first room the hallway brought her to was a gallery with beige walls and three paintings on each one. The room was empty of people except one. A familiarly tall man stood in front of a painting of the ocean.

The moment she glanced at him little details popped out to her in her head.

Right handed.

Uncomfortable in his clothes.

Mid-thirties.

Born in London.

Plays violin.

Went to private school as a child.

A rebel as a teenager.

One sibling.

Spent the last few months out of the country.

He had pale skin, curly black hair, and prominent cheekbones. He was wearing dark jeans, a leather jacket, and a white button down shirt. Veronica walked to his side.

"You contacted John Watson," he said the sentence as a statement not as a question.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"And he took your case," another statement.

"Yes," she repeated. "We are going to meet at my flat tomorrow morning."

The mysterious man pulled a file out of his jacket and handed it to her.

"My homeless network has identified a man by the name of Sebastian Moran roaming the streets of London at night. Moran works for the man who could be interested in some information you might have," he said as she opened the file. A picture of a ginger man with tanned skin was the first thing she saw.

"I know this man," she said as she flipped through the file. Mid- thirties, dishonorable discharge from the british army, no living family. "He followed me to my flat. This information, I assume you mean the code?"

She knew such a code existed. A code to hack into the very computers designed to be unbreakable. Computers that were placed in government offices and buildings. The CIA, FBI, NSA, and The Secret Service were in danger along with nearly all American embassies.

"That would be the logical explanation," the man replied. "Moran was a sniper in the army and was very good at it. Do you understand what I am telling you?"

She nodded. "I'm not safe anywhere. If there is a target on my back and he's around it's only a matter of time before-." She paused. "Who is his boss?"

"No one of importance at this time." He turned and started from the door.

"I think it should be important if he wants me dead," she half shouted to him.

He stood at the doorway and looked back to her. "Keep the file. If Moran is the next person to make an attempt on your life I think you're going to need all the help you can get."

Then he vanished into the night.

* * *

John sat alone in his flat staring at his laptop. He had been looking at his blog for the last thirty minutes.

I know what people say. I don't care what anyone else thinks, Sherlock Holmes was the most brilliant man I have ever known and he will always be my best friend.

That was the last post John had put on his blog a few days after Sherlock died. The comments to all of his posts had been disabled in case anyone wanted to say that Sherlock was a fake.

There had been a thousand times John had wanted to write something. He wanted people to believe Sherlock was real. For weeks after his death dozens of reporters had followed John. There were so many articles in the paper and online that nearly everyone in the world knew the name Sherlock Holmes.

Without think John scrolled to the button 'New Post'. Slowly he typed:

Life hasn't been the same since he left, I definitely haven't. My limp returned and so did depression and six months later I still have nightmares. They used to be about people I knew who had been shot or blown up. Now I only see one face. A paled, bloody face of my best friend.

Silently John stared at the words at the words for a moment then quickly shut the computer.

Six months later and you're still haunting me, Sherlock.

* * *

_**Okay, I have to admit this is not my best chapter. I also haven't updated in awhile and I tried to write this as quickly as possible so there might be a few grammatical errors in this new chapter. Don't judge me. I think I'll be able to add a new chapter within the next few days. Please review and I promise I'll have a long chapter up soon.**_


	6. Chapter 6- Nightmare

_**This chapter is in Veronica's POV.**_

* * *

The rain is coming down hard, pelting my face and soaking my hair. It was a good night not joyful or cheerful but not as bad as they had been. The night is dark and the only light comes from the streetlights of the empty street. I know this street, I walked down it when I lived in New York. I take two steps then I turn around for some reason.

That was the dream I had last night. I don't find out who or what's behind me. I just wake up shaking violently.

It's starting to get worse. Always dark, shadowy, and raining. It's so clear it is as though I have lived it. Every night the same dream.

So what I want to know is why I'm getting them now?

* * *

**_Forgive me for the shortness. I've had this idea for a while now but didn't know how to write it down the way I wanted to. I hope this gets you all a little more excited about what happens next._**

**_The next chapter will probably be John and Veronica starting their investigating..._**


	7. Chapter 7- Mistake

_**Okay, so haven't updated in close to three weeks but my teachers have been giving so many tests and projects recently that I haven't had time. On the brighter side I have found an editor for my stories just to get a second opinion on what I write. So guys, this is chapter 7!**_

* * *

Veronica looked at her watch then back out the window of the cafe. It was 7:54 am. Six more minutes until she was supposed to meet with John in the cafe she was now sitting in.

This was a mistake, She thought. I don't even really know him and the only reason I sought him out is because some other mysterious told me to. A man who I shouldn't trust but I do because... he is helping me. He's helping me more than the police are at least.

She took a deep breath in. Calm down. Focus.

She nodded then glanced at a couple next to her.

_Newly wed based on their age and shining wedding bands. She's about to tell him she's pregnant because of the way she's holding her womb and from the smile she has when he looks away. He suspects nothing of course because he keeps catching a glance at his watch probably making sure he's on time for his new job. Suspected new job from his new suit, cheap but still new. She stays at home all day, loves to read and knitting from the needles sticking out from her purse along with three new books._

A young couple in love starting a life in London. How... unoriginal.

She checked her watch again. 7:55 am.

Veronica screamed mentally in her head then turned to the people sitting in front.

_One mother and son, obviously. Only child and a widow. Both live in London but don't get to spend time together. She is about to get remarried from the ring she is fiddling with on her finger but isn't quite comfortable with the idea of marriage yet by the way she is also clutching the ring on a necklace from her first marriage around her neck. The son is used to being the center of attention by the way he is taking control of the conversation. Unwedded, no children, and single, he has no intention of being with someone ever. Workaholic._

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She jumped, stood up, and spun around knocking her chair over in the process.

"Whoa, Whoa-." John said throwing up his hands.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," She said reaching down and picking the chair back up.

"No, no, no, I shouldn't have snuck up on you, sorry."

She sat back down. "Well then, I guess we should get started, don't you."

John nodded. "I wrote down some questions last night just to get a little more clear."

Veronica leaned back in her chair. "Fire away."

"Okay." John reached into his pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. "I'll just start now... When did you move here?"

"Five months and two weeks ago."

"Right, um, okay did you have the letters and pictures sent to you before you moved here?"

"Nope," she replied.'

"Why did you move here, to London of all places?"

"I always loved London, it's one of my favorite places in the world. When I was younger I used to spend the summers here, alone of course, my parents were always too busy. After they died there were so many reporters that I couldn't walk down the street without a horde of people shoving microphones into my face and screaming questions at me. Everyone wanted to know 'What will you do next', 'how is your parents' investigation going', 'will you become CEO now', etc. It got to the point where my friends were harassed too."

John nodded, that was the same thing that had happened to him after Sherlock died.

"Has anything else strange happened to you in the last six months?"

Veronica thought back to the dreams. She shook her head. "No."

It meant nothing anyway. She brought her hand up to move a piece of her away face.

"Nice ring," John said pointing to her finger. The ring itself had a silver band with an Onyx stone, a little less than a centimeter in diameter.

Veronica looked down at it when he mentioned it. "It was my mother's, I guess she gave it to me."

John made a confused face. "What do you mean you guess?"

She hesitated. "I was angry at them before they died, I was depressed and wouldn't listen to anything they said." She paused. "There was a car accident I was in with one of my was really bad. He died, and I was in the hospital for a week. It took my parents three days to get to the hospital. Their excuse was that they were at an important conference and couldn't leave. After that I stopped listening to anything they said."

"That's terrible," John whispered.

Veronica shifted in her seat. "Yeah, well it wasn't the first time they couldn't be there for me."

John was silent for a long time. "Where did you go to school?"

"I went to a posh boarding school in upstate New York."

"Did anyone there ever threaten you or make you feel unsafe?"

"No, just your average, boring , hormonal teenagers." She replied.

John looked back down his list, There was one last question. "Where were you the night your parents died?"

Veronica looked him in the eyes. "As I said before, I was angry at my parents. I didn't want to be anywhere near them. I was at home when they were shot. I woke up the next morning to police officers knocking at my door."

* * *

"I don't get it," John said as they walked down the sidewalk to Veronica's flat. "Your parents' company is literally worth billion. So why are you renting a flat?"

Veronica shrugged. "I like simplicity."

They walked for another minute then Veronica pointed to a brick building on the opposite street.

"It's that one." She hesitated and stared at it for a moment. " I haven't been here in three days. There's still a bloodstain in the kitchen, I haven't had anyone clean it."

John remained silent for a moment then said, "Regular people wouldn't be able to handle what you've been through. It is okay if you're scared."

"Not scared," she replied. "Just numb. I thought it would bother me more, but it doesn't. I killed a man. And, yeah, he was going to kill me, but still. I feel like it didn't even happen, like a... dream."

She shook her head and continued to the building across the street, John followed.

She produced a silver key as they climbed the steps to the door. John thought he saw her hesitate again right before she put the key in the lock. Veronica turned the knob and the door opened with a creak.

Behind the door was a staircase much like the one in 221b. "It's upstairs," She said.

They climbed the stairs and turned on the landing to back door. Veronica turned the knob.

John saw Sherlock's style in the way Veronica had put her belongings, in organized chaos. Bookshelves covered every wall, a leather couch sat to the side of the living room, a wooden table covered with papers was near the window, a laptop sat opened on a high backed armchair in front of the fireplace. A kitchen was on the left side and a hallway with a bedroom and bathroom went straight ahead.

"You said it happened in the kitchen," he said.

"Yeah."

Slowly as if they were afraid of making a sound, they walked toward the kitchen with Veronica leading the way. John braced himself for the amount of blood he was about to see.

At the doorway they stood side by side and looked down at the floor.

Veronica shook her head. "That's impossible."

John held his breath while he tried to think.

The white tile floor shone at their feet.

Not even a drop a blood sat there.

* * *

_**AAAAAAAAH! Yeah, there's chapter 7. Please review, or give me suggestions on what you want to see in future chapters, or even just let me know there are people reading this. As always, I will write as quickly as possible to get to next chapter up!**_


	8. Chapter 8-Plan B

_**I am a bad person. I finished this Chapter three weeks ago and I has been even longer since I last updated. I know, I feel bad. BUT things happen and I wasn't able to update. Hopefully it won't happen again but if for some reason I'm gone for a week (or two) I'll tell you at the end of a chapter. I am so excited to to update more chapters!**_

* * *

"That's impossible," Veronica whispered next to him. She shook her head, buried her face in her hands, and turned away from the kitchen.

"I thought no one had been in here in the last few days," John said, still staring at the floor.

"No one has. I have the only key, the only way anyone could have gotten in here is if-," She looked up in realization, then sprinted out the door. John ran after her. Veronica flew down the stairs to the first floor, then turned a door next to the staircase.

"Andrew, open the door, please." She pounded in the door furiously until an elderly man with wild, white hair opened it.

"Veronica, how are you? I haven't seen you in days. Where have you been?"

"I'm fine. I've been staying somewhere else. Andrew, did you let anyone into my flat?"

"No, no, I can't say there was," He said shaking his head furiously, making his insane hair fly back and forth.

Veronica dropped her head in defeat and turned back to John, who was just as confused as she was.

"Well... there was the clean-up crew."

"What?"

"The clean-up crew to clean up the blood. Don't you remember? They had papers with your signature on them, they said you made all the arrangements so I let them right up to your room. It's a nasty business if you ask me, cleaning up crime scenes for a living."

John could tell Veronica had stopped listening at that point. He saw the confusion in her eyes as she sorted her thoughts into various conclusion that could fit the situation that had been laid before them. That's the way Sherlock did it. John shuttered at the thought of Sherlock and a stab of pain went through his leg, as well.

"Thank you, Andrew," She whispered.

"If you need anything-," He said as retreated back into his room.

The remaining pair stayed silent in the empty hallway, deciding what the next best thing to say was.

"Maybe, we should go back up to the flat?" John finally said, after a minute of standing in the quiet.

"I suppose so."

* * *

The duo stood back in the kitchen examining the scene. So far they had concluded that the entire kitchen had been scrubbed clean with bleach and if there had been anything in the kitchen that could help with the investigation it had probably been destroyed. After John finished observing every inch of the room he decided to move onto the rest of the flat.

"Was he anywhere else?"

Veronica shrugged. "He came at me from behind, if he was looking at anything I didn't see it."

John a quick looked about the rest of the living room. "And everything is exactly where it was?"

"Yes, yes, I mean nothing's missing or mis-," She stopped as she past the chair, then looked down.

"The laptop isn't where I put it," She said quietly.

"What?" John said.

"I put it on the table when I went to bed, not on the chair," She said as she put the computer on her lap and opened it. John looked over her shoulder as she logged on.

Download complete. Please removed external device carefully.

"Do you know if the police found anything on the body, a disk or memory stick?" John asked

" A flash drive? No, they didn't even find identification on him," She replied.

John left her side, searching every inch of the flat. He explored the dusty shelves and behind the many leatherbound books, he rummaged the table and stacks of paper and examined under the sofa.

"What's on the computer?" he asked as he moved onto the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room.

"Everything, I've had this laptop for years, my entire life is on here. What are you doing?"

John stopped in the middle on the room and then slowly began turning in a circle to observe the space.

"If the person who broke into your flat brought with him a memory stick and the police didn't find it then-"

"- it would still be here," Veronica finished.

"Right," John nodded.

"Okay, so how do you know that when the people who scrubbed my kitchen with bleach also broke in that they didn't find it and take it?"

"My guess is that they work for someone who's targeting you, for a reason we still don't know. They come in to clean up every last bit of trace evidence. But... they leave the laptop, why?"

"Um, well maybe they first guy messed up the job he was supposed to do. So, instead of bringing more attention to it, they just left the laptop."

"Okay, but the first man was on your computer was trying to download something. Veronica, maybe he wasn't here to kill you, maybe he was just here-"

"- for the computer." She nodded.

"He never thought you would walk in... But he left something in the struggle, something that the police missed, something like-." Out of the corner of John's eye he saw something that didn't belong with the leather couch. He walked over and with two finger he pulled a blue memory stick from between the cushion. "-something like this."

"Toss it to me," Veronica requested, John did. She plugged it into the laptop then click on the icon in the corner of the screen that indicated that she could open the files on it. The room stayed silent as she inspected the documents in the flash drive.

"Okay, this is weird."

John move to her side and looked over her shoulder. "What, what's on it."

"Well it doesn't look like he was looking for anything specific. There's pictures and old school assignments on here. Nothing worth killing over."

She unplug it then turned it over and over in her hand.

"Wait, what is that," John asked. He pointed to something written on the side. Veronica squinted and that she saw it. Written in black marker were that words, **_217 cslaenthgir 3rfdetl._**

"Gibberish," Veronica responded.

_**217 cslaenthgir 3rfdetl... 217 cslaenthgir 3rfdetl... 217 cslaenthgir 3rfdetl.**_

"It has to mean something if it was written on here." John muttered. "We need more answers."

Veronica glanced at him. "There is one last piece of evidence we haven't thought of."

"And that is-?"

"The body of the man who broke in here. I'm sure he is still in the morgue."

John turned the memory stick in his hands and leaned against the mantle. Six months and John hadn't been anywhere near the hospital.

"I-I don't... I mean..."

Veronica stared at him from across the room. "I know how you feel because I felt that way when my parents died. But I'm going whether you come or not."

"I-I...Okay, Okay sure. I going."

Veronica nodded and walked to the closet next to the door and pulled out a dark trench coat.

"Let's go. Oh, wait how are we going to get into the morgue."

"It shouldn't be a problem. I know the mortician and she owes me a favor."

* * *

_**Tell me if this makes sense. In summary Veronica and John find a memory stick (flash drive) in her apartment and on it is multiple files from Veronica's computer. Also there was a mysterious message. They conclude that the first person to break into her flat wasn't there to kill her but that Veronica only walked in on him. While Veronica was out of her flat more people clean up the blood and got rid of any evidence that could link them to her. Now on a last ditch effort for anymore evidence they are on there way to the morgue. YAY MOLLY!**_

_**Please review. I WANT to hear what you have to say.**_


	9. Chapter 9- Old Friends

_**Okay, so remember when I said that I would say if there were a delay in writing a new chapter? Yeah... My Laptop broke. So I pretty much wrote this entire chapter on my kindle. I intended to have this chapter up last Tuesday but the process in write this chapter took SO long. And with that being said the next several chapters may be up every week and a half to two weeks. **_

_**Here's chapter 9.**_

* * *

"The morgue is in the basement, yes?" Veronica asked.

"Yep," John nodded as their taxi rolled to a stop in front of the hospital.

"Do you think there are going to be guards? Since we shouldn't even be there."

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably. Yes."

"If all goes well, which it should, no one should stop us as long as we don't draw attention to ourselves. Easy enough."

John opened the cab door and got out. "And if we are caught sneaking into a morgue to see a body of a mystery man who broke into a billionaire's flat. Then what?"

"Then we improvise, I'm good at that. And don't call me a billionaire it makes me sound powerful," She turned and faced him. "I'm not powerful. I'm just a regular, ordinary girl from New York."

John shook his head. "You aren't regular or ordinary, You're like Sherlock Holmes."

Veronica smirked then turned back to the door. "Then what does that make me, Dr. Watson?"

"I don't know yet."

Veronica turned back to John, confused. "You say I'm like Sherlock Holmes but you don't know what that means. Come on, John, you knew him better than anyone."

John shook his head again. "I thought I knew Sherlock. I used to think that he could fix any problem or solve any mystery. I never thought he would... jump off a building." John turned and pointed to the corner of the hospital. "He jump right over there."

Veronica shivered in the winter air but stayed silent a moment.

_John..._, she thought. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry. Let's just get this over with without anyone seeing us."

* * *

"Is it just me or are there too many police officers here?" Veronica asked as they opened a white door that led to another corridor. "Is that a European thing or did you have a feeling something's wrong?"

"The latter," John answered as he peered down the hallway to check for guards.

"Did someone steal a baby or something?"

"If someone had been kidnapped or missing the hospital would be on lockdown. It's something else."

They passed a couple of doors then Veronica noticed that when they got into the elevator they hit the button to go down."Why do I have a feeling that all of the police are going to the basement?"

"Because I'm pretty sure they're going to the basement. Hurry up." They passed a nurse's station and a few doctors until John stopped at a utility closet.

"Hold on," he said as he turned the knob to the closet and found it was unlocked. "Keep a lookout and make sure no comes over."

Veronica stopped him when he tried to open the closet again. " What are you doing? We just need to get to the basement, we need to hurry."

" You said it yourself, the police are in the basement right now. Do you really expect us to just stroll in and and have a look at our body?"

Veronica gave a quick look around the hallway. "Then what are you doing?"

" Two people dressed in street clothes who walk down to the morgue are bound to be stopped by the police. But doctor's wouldn't."

With the last word and ignoring Veronica's protests he slipped into the closet. Veronica once again turned slowing again to make sure she wasn't attracting any unwanted attention. The doctors had broken up and gone down different hallways, leaving the corridor only with a dozen or so patients and a handful of nurses.

"Here," John said as he tossed a white bundle at her as he exited the closet. She straighten the heap and almost smirked as she held it up.

"You want us to impersonate doctors?"

"I am a doctor."

"And I'm eighteen, there's no way a police officer will look at me and think I'm a doctor."

"Keep your head down and don't draw attention to yourself. We go in, get as much information as possible, then leave as quickly as possible."

More police passed them but didn't give the two a second glance. The hallway soon became even more crowded as people left their rooms to see what police were doing.

"In crowds we should be able to slip past anyone who might stop us," She whispered to him.

John nodded as they weaved between people and turned the last corner to the morgue.

"They're in the morgue," he whispered when he pushed he back around the corner. "How many people would you think knew the body was going to be here?" he asked.

She shrugged. "If anyone thought of the closest hospital from my flat then they would know they would take the body here."

"We can't go in now, we'll be seen for sure. We'll come back in a few days when the police aren't here," John said as he grabbed her arm a dragged her back a few feet.

"No! John," she said desperately. "This is our last chance. There is nothing else. If you can't go in, then I will. Wait, and I'll get as much information as I can, okay. Just stay here."

"I can't let you do that-."

"John, think for just a minute. A body is in there right now, and that body is the last piece of evidence we have."

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Two minutes. That's all the time I'm giving you. Two minutes."

"Alright," she agreed.

As soon as the hallway was clear John his hand on the doorknob then looked at Veronica.

"Ready?" He asked.

" I supposed," she replied unsteadily. John nodded and turned the doorknob quietly and slowly.

"John? John is that you?"

John cursed under his breath and turned to the voice behind them. But when he saw the the familiar face he was slightly happy to see his old friend.

"Hello, Molly."

* * *

Donovan had just finished interviewing another staff member as she closed her note pad. _Where is that mortician_, she thought. _She was just over there. What was her name... Macy, no Melany, did it even start with an M? Hmmmm. But where did she go?_

Donovan glanced at the little window on the door. The person person standing sent cold shivers up her neck. The feeling of guilt and fear rolled into her stomach with such violence she suddenly felt dizzy.

_Lestrade_, she thought. _Where is Lestrade? Lestrade should know he's here._

She scanned the crowd and spotted the grey and white haired man at the side of the room. She pushed past people who had stupidly decided to stuff all of themselves inside their one room.

" Excuse me, this is an emergency. Move back. Someone get Lestrade." The crowds seemed to part as she practically yelled at the people in her way.

"Sir-."

"What? Did you find something?"

"Um, not exactly, but I think you need to-."

"Then why are you distracting me, Donovan. Get back back to work and find-."

"It's John, sir."

Lestrade was taken aback by the name. "What?" He whispered.

"John is here, sir. Outside in the hallway. And... I think he's with that girl."

"Wait, John is here?"

"Yes, sir. And that Taylor girl."

Without another word or thought he started pushing the people people between him and the door.

* * *

"John, what are you doing here? I mean, I'm really happy to see you since no one really sees you anymore. But why are you here? Did the police call you? And who is this?" She said all in one breath. On the last sentence she nodded toward Veronica.

"Molly, this is Veronica. I'm helping her on an investigation. Listen, I need to find to see a body brought in a few days ago without any identification."

"So you are with the police?" Molly asked with a nod.

This time Veronica spoke up and stepped forward. "What do you mean?"

Molly shifted her feet. "Well I mean that that's why the police are here. Don't you know? I know what body you're talking about but...I came in this morning and that body was missing. It was gone."

John shook his head in disbelief. "What do you mean missing?"

Molly shrugged. " I mean he was there last night and I came in this morning and he was gone, even the files on him were missing."

"Aren't there cameras down here?" Veronica asked.

"They were all knocked out. The police still don't really know how they got in or out. Lestrade and the rest are in there right now."

John paled. "Lestrade is here?"

Molly nodded. " Everyone's in there. It's a pretty big deal. Apparently he attacked some billionaire."

"I hate that word," Veronica mumbled.

"Veronica, we need to leave now." He started to push her down the hallway.

"Wait, John." Molly pleaded after him him but thankfully she didn't follow.

"Why? Who's Lestrade?" She asked as they turned back and start running toward the staircase.

"Someone you don't want to meet, trust me."

"But why-?" She asked as be pushed her farther up the stairs.

"Because I thought I could trust him but he betrayed me."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that we need to get out of the Hospital."

John threw his shoulder into the stairwell door. "Take off the coat and give it to me," he said as he tore off his own.

She took off the doctor's coat then balled it up and tossed it to him. As they rushed down the corridor he threw them both into a bin. They past the same nurse's desk and patients but this time not caring if anyone saw them. They turned another corner and had the exit within their sight.

When they were about fifteen feet outside the door John felt a hand on his shoulder stop him. He turned and looked into the tired eyes of Greg Lestrade.

* * *

_**If you find any mistakes or errors on this chapter please remember that I had to write this entire chapter on my kindle.**_

_**Right now I just want to thank all of you who are reading my story. It makes me so happy to know that there are dozens of people reading. Please review and I promise to have the next chapter up soon. There is just nothing going my way anytime I want to write a new chapter. Thank you all! Remember to review!**_


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